


STAR BOY

by lolitaslollipop



Category: Mafia (Video Games), Mafia III - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Drugs, F/M, Infidelity, Love, Money, affair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-02
Updated: 2016-11-02
Packaged: 2018-08-28 17:27:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8455393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lolitaslollipop/pseuds/lolitaslollipop
Summary: Four Years Later,Lincoln is running the city and won't let anything stand in his way.





	

Piles of cash decorate Lincoln's cherry oak desk. A smile crept on his lips, trying to hold his cigar on the corner of his plump lip. He goes through the bills carefully, counting to himself. You watch him closely, observing the amount of money he has made.

Star-Crossed Lovers.

That's what you and Lincoln were. You two came from different homes, environments, lifestyles. Adjusting to them was hard for you and Lincoln. You grew up in a beautiful home with loving parents. Lincoln grew up in an orphanage and didn't live off of much. Control is what kept him alive. Nothing else.

After Sal Marcano was killed, Lincoln proposed and the two of you got hitched. Lincoln took over Sal's beautiful loft. At first you were excited that this was going to be your new home. The longer you stayed the more you disliked it. 

You miss your old life. You don't want this. People always say money can't by happiness. You didn't believe that at first. You thought it was a myth but that was before you met Lincoln. 

You two were so close. You had nothing to rely on or nothing to lose. Everything seemed normal and content. Everything changed after Lincoln killed Sal. 

~ 

You get home from work. The house was quiet. You are so relieved that you finally got the house to yourself. 

You walk up the stairs to lie down in bed. Once you open the door the first thing you do was kick off your heels. Your heels fly to the right side of the room, landing on a random article of clothing. Your eyebrow furrows in confusion. You've never seen the burgundy nightie before, nor the worn out football jersey. You snatch the rags. The stench of French perfume burns your nostrils. 

Another girl was in your bedroom.

You look under the bed. There was a bong and used condoms scattered. You sure as hell know you and Lincoln haven't been fucking this much.

You see a box to the far left under the bed. You force your body underneath, pushing the box out from the other side. You quickly crawl out and hop on bed, snatching the box that ended up on the other side. 

You sit there, hesitating to open it. Eventually, you finally do and you fucking regret it. 

Pictures of Lincoln with naked women kissing him, blowing him, riding him, grinding on him, and smiling with him. You find a razor blade, straw and a packet of cocaine, followed by weed.

Your gut starts to do backflips. Your insides squeal like a broken furnace. God, your heart wants to jump out of your mouth and never crawl back in. A tingling sensation starts climb up your throat. You knew what it was, and you weren't going to old it back. 

You let it all go.

You start throwing up all over the bed, the pictures, and the drugs. You swear it was projectile vomit. You never threw up this hard in your life. You hate that man, sadly, you love him more. Everyone kept telling you to stay away from him, but you always stayed. 

Salt water and sorrow burn through your eyes. Your face was as hot as an ember. All you want to do is get up and leave. Instead, all you do it sit there, in your expensive silk blouse and pencil skirt, covered in vomit and tears. You can't move a muscle. All there is to do is weep.

~

A familiar voice was calling your name, as heavy steal toed shoes march upstairs. The voice was happy and content, as if nothing ever happened. 

"Y/N!" he calls again. 

You ignore him. You didn't want to see Lincoln. You haven't moved a muscle in thirty minutes. Your body wouldn't let you. You still can't believe what the fuck you just saw. Your husband was stabbing you in the back, and he seemed to have no remorse over it. 

You flinch when you see the doorknob move. Your heart starts to race, you begin to sweat a little, but you still keep your chin up, and cross your arms. God, he had no idea what he was getting into.

"(Y/N)?" he asks. His eyes looking around the room before meeting yours. 

You could've sworn his pupils dilated to the size of saucers. He drinks the image of you. His box of 'knickknacks' was scattered all over the bed, followed by your vomit. 

"Fuck." he whispers.

"I do so much for you-" you begin. "I've bent my back for you. This is what I get in return?" you state bluntly. Lincoln doesn't say a word. He's waiting for you to go on and on.

"Who are you fucking?" you ask.

"What?"

"You heard me" you begin to raise your voice, causing Lincoln to flinch, "Who are you fucking in my bed?"

Lincoln swallows all of his pride that he thought he had. 

Finally he says, "Jodi."

"Our housekeeper. That's amazing." you say sarcastically. Than you start to laugh, Lincoln raises his eyebrows in confusion.

"I should've known. I should've fucking known." you say, getting out of bed and brush past him with the weed and cocaine in your right hand, lightly throwing it at him. 

You don't how your keeping your cool. Every step you take downstairs feels heavy, as if the marble could crumble underneath you. 

You feel sick again, but you are able to swallow it. Lincoln was following you, begging you for forgiveness. You act like you can't hear him, but you still listen. 

Once you reach the bottom, you head straight to the island, snatching your keys. You feel a Lincoln's giant hand grab your arm and turns you around. You try to break free, but his grip tightens. Not tight enough to hurt you. 

You stare into his eyes, washing all his pride go down the drain. He'd never thought it would go this far. You are his world and he knows he fucked up. There's so much you can take from him. He's made you feel dumb, vulnerable, clueless. The list could go on and on. 

"I'm so sorry." His finger hooks under your chin, staring at you. You've heard this apology over a million times. How can you believe it this time? He was getting high and having sex with random women, while your at home cleaning and cooking a meal for him. 

"Lincoln, I'm just done." you confess. Tears begin to bleed through your eyes. The feeling of sweat and fear ooze out of your eyes, to your cheek. His brushes his thumb over your tears, but you back away. Turning around to head out the door. 

You walk towards your car. Lincoln is now racing after you. 

"(Y/N)! Baby plea-" he yells out, but you automatically stopped him. 

"Shut the fuck up, Lincoln!" you yell. You didn't care if you are on the damn parking lot. You wanted to get your final word in.

"I have done nothing but SUPPORT YOU on shit that you started in this goddamn town. You know what I get back?" You ask. 

Lincoln's eyes begin to tear up, causing more tears to stream down your cheek. "A unfaithful husband who gets high while he's balls deep in some random harlot." you preach. 

"When you do that, I am at home. Looking forward to seeing my 'faithful husband'. When you do you want nothing to do with me. How on earth is that fair, Lincoln?!"

Lincoln wasn't responding. How can he respond? He knew you did nothing wrong. He knew you bent your back for him. You were there for him when Marcano's men killed all of Lincoln's brothers. 

God, Lincoln wanted to take everything back.

The two of you stare at each other, tears streaming down your cheeks. You are still wearing the vomit covered shirt, but you don't care at this point. 

You turn your back to open your car door, hopping in the vehicle, and shutting the door. Your hands were shaking, the keys rattling vigorously in your palms. You put the key in the ignition, starting the car, trying hard not to look at Lincoln. 

Lincoln was still staring at you in heartache and guilt. He never thought this day would come. The love of his life was walking out on him. 

You are behind the wheel, glancing at Lincoln. You grab the aviators that are hanging on the sun visor, slipping them on. 

You roll your window down. You are about to cuss him out, but you take a stronger approach. An announcement that would answer all the questions about your constant vomiting. 

"I'll be contacting my lawyer. I will be discussing wether or not I get full custody." you tell him. Lincoln gives you a confused look. 

"Custody of who?" he asks. 

"I'm having your baby... baby." you confess. 

Lincoln's face goes pale, lifeless almost. He is stunned by the news. He had no idea you were pregnant. Now the pressure and guilt was worse on him. 

You begin to back out of the drive way, watching Lincoln watch you in despair. The only thing he looked forward to is leaving him. 

"One last thing" you yell out, " November 2, 1973. The day I one upped to the one and only, Lincoln mother fucking Clay." 

Lincoln opens his mouth to say something, but you drive away. 

You think about everything that has happened between the two of you. All you wanted was him and only him. No one else. The only person you can blame is the people who condone to his behaviors.

They have made a monster.

**Author's Note:**

> STAR BOY is such an amazing song and I feel like it resembles Lincoln's need for power. A lyric that stood out to me the most is "look what you've done". I feel like it shows the pain that Lincoln implanted on Father James (when Lincoln doesn't flee the town). 
> 
> Also the vomit scene was inspired by Mad Men. Super Iconic. It's the scene where Betty pieces together that her husband is a hoe.


End file.
